


We Were Hand to Glove to Cuff

by callmejude



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Dissociation, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8702290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmejude/pseuds/callmejude
Summary: Elliot's afraid to be alone, despite the fact that he always has been.





	

Leon killing those guys sent a message. A good one. Word gets around. Elliot hasn’t been accosted once, since. What’s left of Ray’s boys avoid him like the plague. So does everyone else. He’s starting to make the mistake of feeling safe. That’s dangerous. The minute Elliot lets himself think it’s over, it’ll come back worse than before.

He hasn’t had visitors in over a month. Darlene and Angela are busy. He isn’t bothered. He just hopes they’re okay. It’s strange, not being able to check on them with a couple of keystrokes. Knowing they can check on him, whether he likes it or not.

Basketball lost its charm once he came off the Ritalin, but Elliot still watches, because Leon still watches. He lets himself feel safe here. No one touches him here. No one speaks to him. Leon sits close and whoops and hollers, discusses Seinfeld in between the plays that fascinate him. Elliot sits quietly and listens. It’s the least he can do.

There is an idea that’s been bugging him for a while, now. Payback, for what Leon did for him. He knows he’s supposed to put in a good word for him next time he sees White Rose, but he doesn’t know when that will be, or if that will be. For everything Leon is doing for him, it doesn’t feel like enough. 

He doesn’t have access to anything now without Ray to give it to him. No terminal, no network access. So he can’t fix anything for him here. Leon knows it, knew it when he took out Ray’s boys to keep him safe. Elliot’s not sure what that means. Maybe there’s something else he can do.

Chewing on his lip, Elliot glances between Leon and the game. There’s really only one thing people can do for each other in here, now that Ray’s gone.

“Can I —?”

Leon looks over, eyebrows raised, but Elliot’s words freeze in his mouth. Shayla told him asking was lame.

Swallowing hard, Elliot leans forward and presses a kiss to Leon’s mouth. He’s quick, too nervous, and pulls back before anything can happen. 

Leon doesn’t respond. Blinks once, and Elliot burrows into himself. What is he doing?

When he gets to his feet, Leon grabs hold of his wrist.

“Chill out, cuz, take a seat.”

He can’t. His heartbeat is thrumming so loud he could swear Leon can hear it. Fight or flight response. Flight. Run.

Leon’s smiling at him though. An easy little half-smile like he knows something Elliot doesn’t. It makes Elliot unsteady. He tries to shake his arm free, but Leon tugs him back down to the bleacher with a quiet _thump._ Elliot takes a deep breath, afraid of what comes next. Leon drops his wrist to run his hand through Elliot’s hair. It’s nice. Solid. Elliot doesn’t move.

“Just not here, cuz. It’s alright.”

Elliot nods. Shayla was wrong. He should’ve asked.

It’s quiet for a moment, and then Leon’s lips press against his temple. Soft, softer than Elliot expects, but Leon’s always been softer than anyone else in here.

“Yo, you really wanna worry about it, worry about it during rec time, alright?”

A twist in his chest. Nervous. Excited, a little. He wants to do this for Leon, but it’s not a total sacrifice. He misses contact. He hasn’t had it sober in years. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like. The rush makes his hands itch. His mouth twitches, and he nods.

His first day inside, Leon told Elliot he’d get him anything. Maybe that’s all Leon thinks about this. That can’t be right, can it? He said _don’t worry about it._ He has to know.

Leon slumps back easily in the bleachers and turns to the game. After a moment, he says cheerfully, “Yo, man, I get around to telling you about The Contest? I swear, dunno how they got this shit past network TV.”

Elliot’s not sure how Leon is able to carry on as if he hadn’t just kissed him in front of half the prison population. He doesn’t bring it up again, and treats Elliot as he always has. It leaves Elliot feeling as if he’s forgotten something, again. Something everyone else knows. Missing time. He wants to ask Mr. Robot, but he’s not been around for the past few hours. It’s hard to tell if it’s a good sign or not that he’s gone.

Dinner is quiet, which is strange enough for Elliot to feel as if he’s done something wrong. He stares hard at his tray. Leon is too good a person to tell him, but he’s fucked up.

He should’ve asked.

It feels like they’ve been sitting in silence for hours when Leon finally starts talking. He’s almost done with _Seinfeld._

“Got a lot more watchin’ done before you came around, cuz.” He stuffs a forkful of soppy instant mashed potatoes into his mouth and chuckles to himself. “Havin’ to keep you outta trouble is cuttin’ into my TV time and all.” 

Elliot wonders if he’s kidding, or just hiding the truth with a playful voice. He feels guilty, anyway. 

“It’s alright, though. Still blazin’ through this shit during rec time. Been thinkin’ about what to watch next, since I’m almost gettin’ done with _Seinfeld_. Had a buddy growin’ up that was really into that show _Twin Peaks._ They got a copy of it in the library. What you think, cuz? Kinda seems like your thing, if you wanna come with. I know you don’t like hangin’ around the tech here much, but I’ll take the keyboard seat.”

Elliot nods, but he’s not sure what he’s agreeing to. He hopes it’s the answer Leon wants. He seems pleased when he starts talking again. Apparently if more than one person wants to watch the same thing, they let them use the better computer. 

“Speakers ain’t got that static goin’ as much,” Leon tells him. “It still ain’t like a real set up, but it ain’t too bad.” 

Okay. So maybe he _was_ kidding. Maybe he likes having Elliot around. Or maybe he’s just trying to keep him out of trouble. Either way, yes would be the answer Leon’s looking for. And a bonus of a better computer.

Elliot wants to, anyway. He’s tired of basketball, but he’s not tired of Leon. 

He’s not sure how long he’s been staring at his tray when Leon’s plastic fork taps in front of his face. 

“You done, man?”

There’s no use trying to eat right now. His stomach is in knots. Elliot clicks his tongue against his teeth. Nods. Leon grins at him, and his throat feels dry.

“Alright, better go wash up, then.” He takes a bite of applesauce off his tray and adds, “If you wanna chill with me later, that’s my library time.”

He winks, and Elliot’s eyes drop back down to his tray. Maybe this was a mistake. Or maybe it’s just fight or flight response again. Leon doesn’t want him to do either.

“Ain’t done with _Seinfeld_ yet, though. _Twin Peaks_ ’ll have to wait.”

With a hesitant nod, Elliot gets to his feet. Leon doesn’t stop him this time, and he walks out of the cafeteria alone. Tells himself that’s normal. They shouldn’t leave together. But Leon would never leave him alone too long.

At a loss of what exactly to do, Elliot stands awkwardly by a group of tables. He can see a row of dilapidated Windows PCs from about 1998 in the far corner of the room. They don’t have Internet access, but Elliot still feels uncomfortable looking at them. Instead his eyes scan the library. It’s almost entirely empty. People usually use their free time after dinner to shower or lift weights or use the phones. Leon’s mentioned before that he’s often the only one in here during rec period, but he’s not here now. 

What if Leon didn’t even want to meet him here? This has all been misinterpreted. He should go back to his bunk. What is he even fucking doing? Spinning on his heel, Elliot bolts for the door, running headlong into Leon, who catches him with a laugh.

“Slow down, cuz. Where you gotta be so fast?”

Elliot swallows. Leon pats his shoulder. 

“You overthinkin’, huh?”

Probably.

By way of answering, Elliot smirks. Leon doesn’t mind that he’s quiet, but it’s only fair to respond in some way. He likes Leon. He’s one of the good ones. Safe. Caring. He doesn’t want to push him away. Elliot’s not sure what he’d do in here without him.

“You still good?”

Elliot nods.

“Alright, c’mon.”

It’s easier than Elliot expects. The rules for prison hookups are far more pragmatic than social interactions on the outside. Leon takes him by the wrist and leads him to the back behind the shelves, out of the sightline of the door. Elliot’s thankful when Leon doesn’t try to undress him. He doesn’t even undress himself. He stands there waiting for Elliot to decide. It’s admirable.

It takes longer than he means to work up the nerve to say something, and eventually Leon asks quietly, “You sure you wanna do this?” 

Leon runs his hand through his hair again. Gentle. Sweet. Elliot wonders why Leon’s in here. It’s not right to ask. Either way, Elliot’s willing to bet he’s innocent of it. All the guys say they’re innocent, but he’d believe Leon.

That’s not safe. Especially not when he knows Leon has killed people.

But that was for him.

“Hey,” Leon ducks his head into Elliot’s line of sight, frowning now. Elliot forgot to answer him.

“Yeah. I want,” Elliot clears his throat. Looks at his feet. This is humiliating. “To say thank you.”

Leon’s frown doesn’t fade. Elliot was afraid of this, that he’d be too kind to collect a debt. “Hey c’mon now, you don’t gotta —”

It’s lame to ask. Elliot pushes up on his toes to cover Leon’s mouth with his.

Leon doesn’t resist. If Elliot didn’t want to do this, he wouldn’t. He takes comfort in Leon knowing at least that much about him. Broad hands cover his shoulders and air escapes him in a rush.

It affects him faster than he expected. He’s not usually good at this sort of thing, even when he’s high. He hasn’t bothered to sleep with anyone since Shayla, months ago. But being in a six-by-nine concrete box for 62 days does strange things to people. He’s so lonely. So lonely he feels like he’s drowning. Feels like it does right before he finally breaks down and cries after months of repressing. But Leon’s hands are warm and solid as he pushes Elliot back against the nearest bookshelf, and makes his head go quiet. The pit of his stomach runs hot.

He’s not sure what Leon wants. He’s afraid to ask. He doesn’t want this to stop, doesn’t want Leon to refuse just because it’s supposed to be for him. 

As if hearing his thoughts, Leon tilts his head. “So how do you want it?”

Elliot’s eyes flicker from his face down, to the way their bodies are pressed close. He clears his throat again. “However _you_ want it.”

When Elliot looks up, Leon’s mouth is twisted, exasperatedly contemplative. But the look drops when Elliot meets his eyes. 

Leon nods. “Alright. It’s like that. That’s cool.”

Something about the way he says _it’s like that_ sets off a sharp spark at the base of Elliot’s skull. A shorted fuse. His breath catches, and he nods without meaning to. Leon smiles at him, presses him back against the books again, this time with a touch more force than before.

“All right, cuz,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little travel-sized tube of lotion that’s sold in commissary. “You done this before?”

Elliot nods easily. More than few times, for morphine, before Shayla was his steady connect. He has a feeling this is going to be different, because no one’s ever asked him that.

“Alright, good. You like it?”

He drops his eyes back to the floor. He liked the morphine.

But this is going to be different. It doesn’t matter. He nods.

Leon misinterprets his hesitation. 

“Hey, remember what I told you. I don’t judge.”

Elliot nods again. Leon smiles at him and slicks his hands. He has a nice smile, probably one of the only guys in here who smiles at all. 

Hands shaking, Elliot slides his pants off his hips. They’re bigger on him than he wants them to be, and pool at his ankles with hardly any provocation. 

Leon looks like he’s about to laugh at him, but hesitates. The smile falls. There are scars on Elliot’s thighs, the obvious ones. He won’t ask. Elliot himself doesn’t even remember where they’re all from. Some are decades old, some are only a few months. His mother’s curling iron, his pocket knife, the hot kettle, his own razors. They’ve all started to blur at this point.

Embarrassed, Elliot looks up. Leon isn’t staring at his legs anymore, looking respectfully away. He won’t ask, but he cares. It’s a strange feeling, knowing that.

When he grabs hold of Elliot again, his hands are warm, slick, and stronger than Elliot originally anticipated he would be. Just firm. Solid. Elliot forces himself to keep eye contact, unblinking as Leon looks back at him.

The hint of a smirk pulls at Leon’s mouth. “Relax, cuz, you look like you seen a ghost.”

Elliot’s neck stiffens. He thinks of Mr. Robot, and scans the immediate area for sign of him before letting his shoulders slump. 

“That’s it,” Leon tells him, “Easy.” 

He presses Elliot hard against the bookshelf, hooking his hands under his knees. Leon hoists him up against the shelves by his thighs, until Elliot’s feet can’t reach the floor.

It sends an odd swoop through Elliot’s stomach. He kicks a bit, stretches his toes. He’s lifted enough to be almost face-to-face with Leon. His stomach bottoms out. Thrilling. His heart feels like it’s going to plummet through his ribcage.

Leon grins at him again, and Elliot lets himself hang limp. 

“You sure you’re good with this?” Leon asks again, “After the mess with Ray’s boys…”

Elliot tilts his head. This doesn’t seem anything like that. He’s not sure why Leon thinks they’re similar. He knows Leon. He likes him. This is going to be different. Anyway, Ray’s boys are dead. Leon killed them. He’d seen it. Leon killed them to keep Elliot safe.

He reaches up and slides his hands up Leon’s arms, tugs a bit at the sleeve of his jumpsuit. Leon watches, but it doesn’t seem to answer his question. Maybe Elliot shouldn’t be quiet about this.

“I’m good.”

He’s barely loud enough to hear over the soft electrical buzz of fluorescent lights and ancient computer towers. He knows Leon heard him, but he still seems to be waiting. Elliot clears his throat. Shayla had been wrong, when it came to the courtyard. He licks his lips. Maybe he should ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

Leon chuckles. One of his hands slides down to hoist Elliot’s hips a little higher while the other snakes around his shoulders, pulling him forward off the bookshelves. He leans forward and kisses him in a way that tilts Elliot’s head back. It’s soft, like Leon’s not sure if he should give Elliot control or not, and it feels familiar in a way that doesn’t make sense.

_Tall enough to hold him still, turning Elliot’s jaw up to his face with nimble fingers._

_“Just you and me now.”_

Elliot’s not sure what it means. It sparks some dormant half-memory in him that churns heat in the pit of his stomach. He gasps against Leon’s mouth and it encourages Leon to ease them both down to the floor, laying Elliot flat on his back and pressing close over him. That hand at his hip finally starts to work inside.

The feeling is shocking, and Elliot overloads, arms tearing out of Leon’s grip to wrap around his neck, fingernails digging hard into his back. Leon pulls back just barely, worried, but Elliot whines, humiliatingly, helplessly.

Leon looks at him as if they’ve been at this for years. Patient. Careful. “You sure you good with this, cuz?”

Elliot nods, grateful that he hasn’t pulled away from him, or second-guessed what they’re doing. He pulls Leon down to him, and Leon goes easily. This is good. Safe. He wants this. He _needs_ this. He needs someone to touch him. And he wants it to be Leon. He buries his face in Leon’s neck, and Leon doesn’t ask again.

He’s unbelievably careful. Elliot can picture how Leon found him, pressed against the chainlink, four to one. At the time, he had just been relieved that they weren’t going to slit his throat. But Leon seems to think it means he should treat Elliot delicately. Even the way he presses him to the floor is sweet. 

Not that Elliot is complaining. Delicate is nice. Leon runs his hand quick and light over a long, thin burn on Elliot’s thigh, leans forward and presses a kiss to Elliot’s cheek. Fingers deft along the inside of him. Too many receptors going off at once. Like a high. Shut down. Restart. It’s not what Elliot expected. He didn’t expect Leon to be like Ray’s boys, or hook-ups for morphine, but Elliot’s never had anything like this.

So maybe this isn’t just about White Rose.

He knows it’s not really about saying thank you, anymore.

Leon’s other hand cradles the back of Elliot’s head. Fingernails scratch light against his nape. Reassuring. 

“You clean, right?” Leon mumbles against his jaw when Elliot squirms against him. 

Humiliated, Elliot freezes. When Leon pulls back to look at him, Elliot’s eyes dart away. Leon tilts his head. He doesn’t push. Stalling might be taken the wrong way, so Elliot nods, once. His throat is on fire.

Leon doesn’t respond. He’s waiting for something, but Elliot doesn’t know what. He meets Leon’s eyes again, eyebrows raised. Smirking gently. He doesn’t mean to mock him, but Elliot still feels mocked.

“Right,” he says finally. “I am, too, in case you worried.”

Ask. He was supposed to ask. Further humiliated, Elliot turns his head.

Undeterred, Leon asks, “You ready, cuz?”

The fingers against his skull slide forward to cup his cheek, thumb tracing over his lips absently. Elliot’s breath catches hard, forgetting his embarrassment and remembering the smell of blood and the adrenaline rush pumping his heart wild against his ribs. He remembers the shiv bright red and glistening in Leon’s hand before he dropped it and walked away.

That was for him.

He nods, pushing forward to take Leon’s mouth in his, adrenaline coursing through him like before. He feels Leon smile against his mouth. Elliot has no idea what brought him here, but Elliot will make sure he gets out.

Leon’s hand pulls away and Elliot whimpers. His other hand is still on Elliot’s face, tilting up, holding him still. If Leon wanted to, he could snap Elliot’s neck. But he won’t. Instead he’ll kill anyone he has to to keep Elliot safe.

“Man, you’re jittery.” Leon mutters, fingers press on a faded scar along his side. 

“Sorry.” Elliot hadn’t really realized he’d been shaking. 

Leon snorts, like it’s a joke. Elliot pretends it is. 

The hand at his side slides down, then back again. Up to his neck, down over his hip. As if Leon can’t decide where to put them. Like he’s looking for the easiest fit. He could break Elliot in half, if he weren’t so careful. He killed four grown men like it was nothing.

Elliot’s never had anyone protect him that fiercely before. Not his dad, not Darlene, not Krista. It makes him dizzy, makes his limbs feel foggy. Someone who’s willing to take such good care of him, regardless of risk. 

Not just to get in with White Rose. This can’t be about White Rose. Leon could’ve died that day. He’s going too slow and being too careful for this to only be about getting in good with the Dark Army. He presses his hand against Elliot’s hip again and angles him away from the floor, squeezing gently as he slides in.

It’s been a long time since Elliot’s done this. Before Shayla moved in next door and rattled off that she could get him better supply. He’d forgotten a lot from the way it feels, stretched painfully wide. Elliot makes a strangled sound, presses his face to Leon’s throat to muffle his pitiful noises. Leon cradles his head again. Gently scratches at the hair buzzed close to his scalp. Leon presses his hip down against the floor. Shushes against his neck. Holds still.

Under his breath, Leon mutters, “ _Fuck._ ”

Elliot writhes against him, waiting for the pain to fade. He clenches his eyes shut. Says something, he thinks. His fingernails scrape over Leon’s back. But Leon doesn’t move. Quiet. It feels almost like he’s rocking him.

He killed people, but he’s treating Elliot like he’s fragile. No one’s treated him this gently before. It should be shocking that Leon does. His hands fall from Leon’s back to grip his hair. Deep breath. He can feel Leon’s steady breathing against his neck, the tickle of him blinking. He’s waiting so fucking patiently, and Elliot doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing anymore. This isn’t thank you. This is just greed.

“Alright if I move, yet, cuz?”

Air bursts out of Elliot’s chest in a little gasp. He nods. The first drag stings, but each one after is slow and careful. Breathing is easier. His breath must stop stuttering, because Leon pulls back to look at him after a moment. 

“Good?”

Another nod. He wants to ask Leon why he wants this, why he’s so gentle, why he cares so much, but the words are trapped behind his teeth, under the pressure in his stomach. If the answer is still just for White Rose, Elliot’s not sure if he could take it, anymore.

“You know what, gotta say,” Leon huffs, voice low to keep from being overheard. “Didn’t think you’d be down for this sort of thing back when I met you.” 

He wasn’t, but Elliot knows better than to say that. 

“You ain’t said two words to me that whole day. Thought you hated my chatty ass.”

“I like you,” Elliot insists, startled.

He doesn’t realize how obvious the statement is until Leon laughs, and another quiet, anxious giggle bubbles out of him in response. The library carpet scratches against his back. He licks his lips, and Leon tilts his head.

“That’s why I like you, Elliot,” he says, voice breathless, “Only say what needs saying.”

Elliot’s not sure what that means, but it makes him self-conscious of all the questions he wants to ask. He can’t panic. Not now. Leon will take it the wrong way if he does. He wants Leon to still like him after this. Leon is all he’s got in here. 

Leon shifts against him, and Elliot cranes his neck to kiss him again. The movement must feel a little intimate to Leon, because he pushes Elliot back against the floor. “Quit — quit squirmin’ a second, damn.”

Elliot tenses hard, nods once. It’s important that things are good for Leon, even if Elliot is starting to take advantage of the closeness. Leon narrows his eyes, watching, and Elliot licks his lips again. 

Worried he’s done something wrong, he clears his throat. “Is — is this okay?”

Leon frowns. His arms are starting to tremble from bowing over Elliot for so long. “This ain’t still about thankin’ me for helpin’ you out, is it, cuz? You don’t —”

“No,” Elliot blurts, shaking his head to drive the point home. “No, I’m — no.” He wants to ask what Leon is getting from this. He’s desperate to know. He needs to know there’s more to this than the fucking Dark Army.

“You sure ‘bout that?”

“I’m — yeah.” 

Leon has stopped moving, and it’s causing Elliot to squirm. A new part of his brain is itching. One he has less control over. Leon has him pinned to the floor and stretched open over his cock and he’s not moving and the words just fall out of him before he can stop. 

“Is this about the Dark Army?”

Leon blinks. A line of sweat rolls down from his scalp. “Is what — is _this?_ ”

He sounds surprised. Hope. Elliot’s heart flutters. He nods.

“Goddamn, Elliot,” he says with a laugh that’s probably too loud for what they’re doing. Elliot glances back at the shelves to make sure no one else is here. “I said I’d get you porn, and now you got me in here turnin’ prison wolf on you.”

Elliot doesn’t know what to say. He stares back at Leon, twitching excitedly when Leon scratches his blunt fingernails along the side of his scalp. It’s a rush when Leon moves again, jerks his hips harder than he had before. It’s like white noise in Elliot’s brain, and pushes a groan out of him.

Leon smiles.

“Get outta your damn head for me, cuz.”

Elliot nods, and Leon’s hand cups the back of his neck, pulls him close. His thumb draws a lazy circle at Elliot’s jaw, sending an electric thrill up his spine. “You’re an important part of the revolution, cuz. But I ain’t gettin’ my ass caught up in that Ayran Brotherhood business just for a damn nod of recognition, you feel me?”

It makes sense, but it doesn’t. Why, then? Why Elliot?

He’s not sure if he says anything aloud, but Leon answers him anyway, tilting Elliot’s head back to expose his neck. “I already told you, Elliot. I like you. Just relax for me, alright? Hush up and let me fuck you.”

Elliot nods, but it’s impossible. The fear that someone could walk in is enough as it is, but fear that Mr. Robot will show up any minute is crushing him. Leon thrusts into him again, and Elliot jolts from the nerves sparking awake all along his spine. 

“I got you, alright?” Leon tells him, voice low, “I got you.”

Elliot nods again, though he’s forgotten why he’s nodding by the time he stops. Leon’s hips are starting to move faster, losing rhythm. It feels a bit like morphine, his limbs fading in and out, consciousness selective. The rough drag of the library carpet against his skin. The stretched, too-full feeling that tugs behind his navel. Leon’s hands holding him down, his breath against his neck. 

He can’t feel his fingers, only knows they’re digging into Leon’s back. He was worried about something a moment ago, but he’s forgotten what it is. He hates that — usually. Leon pushes into him again, forceful and solid, and Elliot sighs, dropping his head back against the floor.

He can just barely make out the row of computer desktops through the bookshelf they’re hiding behind before light floods over and he sees nothing. Leon sighs over him. “ _That’s_ it.”

It hasn’t felt like this, not once. He’s never done this sober, able to feel every synapse firing as touch overloads every other sensation. He says something, feels his mouth move and the words push out of him, but whatever it is he says comes out blurred and incomprehensible. Leon must understand him, because he presses close to Elliot and murmurs against his ear.

“It’s alright, Elliot. Shh, it’s alright.”

The thrusts in and out are becoming erratic. Leon is losing track of himself. The itch at the back of Elliot’s mind goes numb, and he sighs. Leon’s close, that’s what he wanted. That’s what had mattered.

Before Elliot can remember himself, Leon moves again. Long, calloused fingers wrap around his cock, and Elliot’s body jerks hard underneath Leon’s weight.

“Fuck —”

He’s the one who says it, he knows from the gentle scoff against his cheek when he hears it. He grapples for purchase in Leon’s shoulders, digging hard into his skin. Tension coils at the base of his spine and he squirms, helpless for release — for _touch_ — in a way he can’t remember ever wanting before. This is different; like pills. Desperate, needy, and pitiful. Leon drags a thumb over his cheek and Elliot whines, turning his face to pull Leon’s thumb into his mouth.

Leon doesn’t pull away from him. He wouldn’t. Presses the pad of his thumb gently against Elliot’s tongue, somehow understanding that the pressure is grounding. When he does pull his hand away, Elliot groans, but Leon presses his forehead to Elliot’s, the hand around wrapped around his cock going slack as he comes hard enough that he drops onto his elbow with a whispered _“Shit.”_

It had been what Elliot wanted, but his brain’s too fuzzy to feel relieved now. Too caught up in his own release, he buries his face into Leon’s shoulder and whines, squirming helplessly until Leon’s grip tightens around his cock again.

“ _Please,_ ” Elliot purrs against his neck, his voice coming out choked and soft. He can’t have this stop, can’t have Leon be away from him. He needs this. Needs Leon. “Please,” he says again, the word leaving his mouth like a mantra. “Please, please, please —”

His orgasm is sudden, overwhelming, the room spinning and the floor under him falling away. He closes his eyes and even the darkness seems alive around him, swallowing him whole. He feels Leon shift and locks his ankles around his waist, arms squeezing tight to keep him from falling away with the rest of the world.

“Elliot, you’re alright,” Leon says finally, voice warm and close in his ear. “I got you, cuz. You’re okay.”

It isn’t until Elliot nods that he realizes he’s crying, the loneliness finally breaking to the surface after all and spilling out of him again after so many months since the last time. He’s never had anyone see him like this, never felt safe enough with anyone else. Not Darlene, not Angela, not Krista. 

He would’ve never done this in front of Leon if he could’ve helped it. Emotions are exploited in here. Letting anything crack through him is dangerous. But all at once, it happens anyway, and there’s no stopping it. The fear, the sadness, the fucking helplessness. He’s scared and he’s lonely and no one has touched him in almost half a year unless to hurt him.

He remembers again, being pressed against the chainlink of the courtyard. Remembers the panic still roaring in his bloodstream when they all fell away from him, Leon standing in front of him. He saved him, and because of him Elliot is here now, heart pounding in his ears, and he can’t stop crying. 

“I’m sorry,” he manages finally in between sobs, breathless and barely audible. “I’m — I’m sorry.”

Leon doesn’t seem perturbed. Shushing Elliot quietly, he readjusts him into his lap and squeezes him close. He rests his chin on Elliot’s shoulder. He doesn’t respond to Elliot’s apologies, just mumbles his own stream of consciousness as he rubs comfortingly at Elliot’s back.

“You’re alright, ain’t no one here but me. It’s just me. You’re good, Elliot, you’re alright.”

Shaking his head, Elliot burrows further into Leon, desperate to seep into him until he no longer has to be alone. He’s terrified to pull away from Leon, to be seen crying, to have to be without him.

“Don’t let go,” falls out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He’s shaking now, and Leon shifts Elliot in his arms again.

“That good, huh?” Leon teases, trying to lighten the mood. 

Elliot nods without shame.

Fingernails scrape against Elliot’s scalp, reassuring. The world sways gently as Leon rocks him again. 

“We’ll have to take a few more goes at it, then.” Leon’s voice is still light, but he’s no longer joking.

He tilts his head, deciphering something on Elliot’s face. Frowning, he finally ventures, “You alright?”

Another nod, but Leon isn’t convinced. He doesn’t press, though. He knows Elliot’s not a fan of answering questions. The frown flips to an easy smile and he runs his hand through Elliot’s hair before slotting him into the spot between Leon’s chin and his shoulder. It’s warm, dark and careful. Safe. Elliot still feels unnervingly safe. Almost calm.

It’s the endorphins, Elliot reminds himself. The safety, the affection. It’s just an illusion, Elliot knows that. Still — he knew this would be different. He knew from the beginning. So maybe not entirely. Maybe he _is_ safe, just a little. He’s never prepared for this much contact. Even as he’s thinking it, Leon runs his hand comfortingly over the back of Elliot’s arm, nuzzling at his hair. He’s waiting patiently, but Elliot’s not sure what for. He can feel Leon’s pulse thrumming against the thin skin of his neck, and has to resist the urge to bite it. He should ask. 

Maybe next time.

His sobs have faded to shuddering breaths before Leon speaks again. “Rec’s about to be over. We best get movin’.”

He’s still pressed fully against Elliot as he speaks. He’s not going to let go until he knows Elliot understands. He’s not going to leave him alone. With a deep breath, Elliot nods, but Leon waits for Elliot to disentangle his own limbs from around him.

Leon runs his thumb over Elliot’s cheek, still undeniably wet. “You good, Elliot?”

A nod, eyes pointed to the floor.

Leon doesn’t push, just grabs Elliot’s drawstring pants from the floor and sets them in his lap. He lifts his hand to tuck under Elliot’s chin and force it up, meeting his eyes with a smile. He leans forward. For an instant, he hesitates, thinking something over before he takes Elliot’s mouth in a quick, chaste kiss.

There’s no way to know for sure, but Elliot wonders if, for a split second, he wanted to ask.

“C’mon,” Leon says decisively, pulling his own pants to his waist as he gets to his feet. “We’re good. Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Quinine" by Dessa


End file.
